Judgement Day
by thehappypursuit-182
Summary: She drew in a breath. "My name is Clove Nicolls, and yesterday was the day I died." /Judgement Day
1. Clove

Judgement Day

Disclaimer: Non. J'ai voulu.

* * *

"State your name for the record," the blond girl behind the desk ordered of the other girl.

She drew in a breath. "My name is Clove Nicolls, and yesterday was the day I died."

"Cause of death?" The girl inquired, flipping through a file folder.

Clove rubbed the back of her head, her fingers getting tangled in her auburn hair. "Head wound... a blow to the head."

"Ah," the blond stated, hands freezing. "I recall that. Cheap shot, I may add."

"You have to do what have to do to survive in there," Clove whispered, eyes glazed. "So many... unspeakable acts."

The blond raised an eyebrow, coughing. "Unspeakable acts? How so? As you stated, 'You have to what you have to do'."

"Where am I?" Clove answered with a question, glancing at the smoke grey walls of the office. "And who are you?"

"I am your messenger," the blond stated. "Call me 'M' for short," she watched as her sad attempt at humor fell flat and sighed. "Simply put, it is my duty to help you move on to the afterlife."

Clove started to suck in large gulps of air, hyperventilating, and her arms gripped the arms of her chair tightly. "What's happening to me?" She asked, gently reaching up to touch her now seeping head wound.

"It happens when you're distressed," the Messenger said, from her chair on the other side of the desk. "See?" The girl said, closing her eyes and gripping the desk. Her face jumped with pain as she recalled whatever had happened to her, and the left side of her neck began spurting blood on to her light grey shirt. "Stab wound."

Clove gripped at the back of her head, as if trying to push her blood back in. "How... how do I stop it?" She asked, hissing in pain as the blood poured through.

"Stop thinking about it," the Messenger commanded, her own wound fully healed.

Clove tried to relax herself, her face slowing becoming calm. "It helps if you think of something you loved in your former life," Messenger said, and slowly the blood stopped its flow and Clove's skull lost its dent. "What were you thinking of?"

"Lilacs." Clove said, eyes still closed. "They were blooming just as we- we left."

Messenger nodded. "It's good to remember what worked, for the future. Now where to begin?"

"Begin?" Clove asked, concerned. "I thought you just sent me own my way?"

She chuckled. "No, Clove. This is your _judgement day_. I can't send you on until you have lost your regrets. When you become, as we say, _pure_."

Clove froze. "But... _everything_. I regret everything," she whispered.

"I know," Messenger nodded. "It is my job to work through with you on your regrets... to find out just how much baggage you have."

Clove moved her fingers up and down the arm of the chair. "How do we do that?"

"By looking through your files," Messenger said, clasping her hands over the desk.

"What files?" Clove asked, frantically.

Messenger smiled grimly. "These," she said, and they both watched as files slowly stacked up on the desk. "Let's start, shall we?"

Clove nodded, sinking back into her armchair. "Sure..."

"Well..." Messenger said, selecting a file off the desk, "let's start here. Your first regret, Clove, is losing," she frowned. "Do realize how foolish that is?"

Clove shook her head. "You don't understand," she whispered, a tear slowly running off her face. "I left Cato _alone_, my poor_ family_... and I'm dead. Don't you get that?"

"I do," Messenger said. "All too well. I once sat in your chair, awaiting _my_ judgement day."

Clove shook her head. "Of course I regret it! I've failed them... him."

"Him?" The other inquired.

Clove shook her head again, causing droplets of water to fall. "_Cato_."

Messenger watched as more files were added to the heap. "And what could you have possibly done?" Clove remained silent. "That's right. _Nothing._ There's nothing you could have done to prevent you from losing. It was your time to go."

The files shrank back. "I was sick," Clove stated, hands clenched. "I was sick when we went to Cornucopia. I shouldn't have... but I didn't want to leave him alone. Cato... I couldn't tell him. My lungs were set on fire every time I breathed, but I didn't want to worry him."

"See?" Messenger said, watching the files decrease as Clove admitted her secrets. "You don't have to run, you were already sick. Next regret, Katniss Everdeen."

"I shouldn't have toyed with her," Clove said. "If I had just finished her right then, _Thresh_... he wouldn't have got me."

Messenger turned her head. "Why did you want to finish her so badly?"

"Because she- they -were stringing everyone along! With their _fake_ love, and everyone bought it. We fought for sponsors," she admitted, "Cato and I, because everyone was rushing to save the poor, fate-stricken lovers," Clove shook her head. "I wanted to be _able_ to love. I wanted her to know that her feint love bought her no sympathy from me. But mostly, I hated her because I saw how much Lover Boy loved her, and because she didn't love him back."

Messenger frowned. "Do you know what unrequited love feels like, Clove?"

"My love was not allowed," Clove stated, simply. "The angle was unknown then. No one had ever tried it before, how was my mentor in a position to do such a thing? And even then, there was no room for two sets of star-crossed lovers in the games."

Messenger nodded, flipping idly through one of the few folders left. "Was it Cato?"

Clove nodded, and shook her head sadly. "I loved him with all my heart. We were the best of friends... having met on our very first day of school. I remembered him, he was the one that ruined my pretty dress with red ink. It was everywhere! Ten years later, he manages to tell me they were hearts!" She chuckled.

Messenger leaned forward. "Clove, why? Why do you do this to yourself?"

"Because," Clove whispered. "Because he was... _is_ my everything. Because he was ruthless, but would stop and pick me tulips. Because he fought for me, when I couldn't. Because he loved me... and I him."

"I'm afraid," Messenger sighed, "I can't... I can't let you go."

Clove frowned, her auburn hair swirling as she shook her head. "What- what do you mean?"

"You can't move on without Cato," Messenger whispered. Then, steadily, "You still need to talk to Thresh. You're not done here yet."

The former competitor squeezed her eyes shut, and a slow trickle of blood started at her crown. "Can't it be over? I'm tired of games."

"This isn't a game," Messenger said, leant over. "This is your judgement day," she shook her head. "I'm afraid you're stuck in Limbo, Clove. Neither here, nor there. Please... come with me?"

Clove shakily stood up, her tendons jumping as her hands gripped the desk, "O-okay."

"Please don't be angry with me," Messenger begged.

"I'm not mad at you," Clove said. "Just at myself." With that Clove passed through the barrier separating her from the office, and tumbled into everything and nothing, stuck in Limbo.

Messenger walked back to her mahoghany desk, and flipped Clove's file folders closed, and sighed.

There was a buzz as the intercom rang out. "He's here to see you now."

"Send him in."

* * *

End of Chapter One

-Pursuit


	2. Thresh

Hey guys! Thanks to the _awesome_ response on the last chapter, I decided to get on this one right away. Hope you like!

Disclaimer: Je ne comprend pas. Non, non, non!

* * *

He stared, distant and closed off. His eyes flew left to right, chasing the fly buzzing around the room.

"You know," she began, slightly amused, "this would go by a lot faster if you would say something."

"Who are you?" He asked, clasping his hands together and resting his forehead on them.

She sighed and contemplated wearing a name tag. "I am your Messenger," she said, "but you may call me M."

"Where am I?" He asked, not looking up from his hands.

She frowned. "Thresh, this is your judgement day. What we discuss in this room determines when and/or if you move on to your afterlife, do you understand?"

"Yes," he said, looking up for the first time. "Begin."

M. reached for one of the folders. "Your first regret: Not protecting Rue."

He grunted. "Yeah," he muttered, pulling at an invisible thread on his Games uniform.

"No one expected you to," M. said. "It's challenging enough to look after yourself in those Games."

Thresh's eyes flashed with rage. "Yeah, how do you know?"

"Hunger Games veteran," M. said with dry sarcasm. "Well, victim."

Thresh gripped his chair. "Look," he began, "this isn't real."

"I assure you," M. frowned, "that this is _very_ real. This is vital to you moving on to the afterlife."

Thresh glared. "What's the Afterlife?" He spat, and then said quietly, "Is it worth dying for?"

"I couldn't tell you," M. said, frowning. "I wouldn't know, I haven't moved on yet."

"And who made you boss?" Thresh muttered, crossing his arms.

She chuckled. "I'm afraid I'm not the boss," she sighed. "Look, I understand you are uncomfortable with this, but this is no joke. This isn't a nightmare, this is the real deal Thresh."

"All I know," Thresh began quietly, "is that one minute I'm fighting Cato and then-" he stopped as blood seeped from his abdomen. "At least now I can assume I died of a stomach wound," he said, dryly.

M. frowned, turning to Thresh. "Don't think about it," she commanded, "it should go away."

They watched as Thresh's wounds slowly healed, leaving a streak of blood across Thresh's uniform. "Thanks," he muttered.

"No problem," she smiled. "Now, I am assuming that since Rue's folder disappeared you see things my way?"

Thresh shrugged, noncommital, but Rue's folder failed to return. "So?"

"Next up," M. said, ignoring his remark, "is not joining the Careers. Care to explain?"

He shrugged again, frowning down at his abdomen. "Could've used help."

"And how long do think it would have taken before one of them stabbed you in the back?" M. wondered.

"A while," he said, slightly more confident about this.

She paused, "You don't talk much do you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"It's just interesting," M. mused, "how the tributes are all so different. When Clove was-"

"_Clove?_" Thresh whispered hoarsely.

M. raised her eyebrows, startled at his response. "Well, of course, all tributes have a judgement day."

"I thought I did something wrong," he muttered, once again tugging at invisible strings.

M. watched as file upon file flooded her desk. "Having regrets about killing Clove?"

"She didn't kill Rue," he said, hoarsely.

She tilted her head. "And how do you know that?"

"Cato," he said. "Screamed it at me when he was chasing me... that's what caught me by surprise," he gestured at his abdomen.

"Why did think Clove had killed her?" M. inquired, leaning forward.

Thresh sighed. "Career," he explained. "She was ruthless... I saw what she was doing to Fire Girl."

"Katniss?" She asked.

"That her name?" Thresh asked. "Didn't know."

M. tilted her head, contemplating. "Why do you think killing Clove implanted on your brain as a major regret?''

"Told you," Thresh said, sitting back in his chair, "she's innocent."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't call her innocent, you said yourself she was ruthless."

"Not to me," he said, glancing at the empty chair beside him.

M. glanced at the chair for the first time, realizing what she was supposed to do, "_Clove._"

Clove appeared beside Thresh, her eyes shut tight as she overcame the dizzying sensation of passing through the limitations of reality. Upon opening her eyes, and seeing Messenger, she whispered, "Cato?"

"Not yet," M. sighed, and instead gestured beside Clove.

Clove recoiled at the sight of Thresh, blood streaked across him, shuddering. "_No._"

"Clove," Thresh started, leaning forward in his chair.

"You _monster_," she spat. "Get away from me!"

Thresh drew back, as if wounded. "I know you didn't kill Rue."

"Too little, too late," Clove responded, teary. "You didn't care then."

Thresh sighed, his face resting in his hands. "I didn't think. I just thought..."

"Thought what?" She choked up. "That I was brutal enough to kill the youngest, smallest, _weakest_ girl in the Games?"

"You were capable of it," Thresh gritted out through his teeth.

Clove gasped. "You don't know what I am and am not capable of," she hissed. "You don't even know me!" She sobbed, and blood cascaded from her head and poured down her face.

"Oh dear," M. muttered. She'd never seen this much blood from a tribute.

Thresh reached his hand out shakily towards Clove's face. "Clove, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry," she hissed, gushing blood. "You aren't."

Thresh sighed. "I am," he assured. "Why do you think you're here? I want to apologize."

"Apology not accepted," Clove gritted out. "I hope you _burn_ in hell."

"Please," he begged, "I don't mean to- I'm just trying... I'm sorry."

Clove turned to him, and Thresh winced at the image as blood poured down her face... blood he had caused. _"Don't you get it?" _She hissed. "I will _never_ forgive you."

M. sighed, dragging the attention back to her. "I'm afraid," she started, "that seeing as Cato isn't here, and Clove isn't willing to forgive you Thresh, both of you must carry on to Limbo."

"Limbo?" Thresh inquired.

"Purgatory," Clove spat in reply.

M. nodded in agreement. "Thresh, I'm going to send you to Limbo, okay? I'll give you a count of three in preparation. Clove, I'll send you after."

Clove nodded, and Thresh shook his head, upset. "Sure."

"Three," M. began.

Thresh opened his mouth to speak. "Clove, I really am-"

"Two," M. warned.

"-sorry," Thresh continued. "Please-"

M. sighed, "One."

"-forgive me?" Thresh inquired, accidentally grazing Clove's right hand.

"Zero," M. finished, and watched as both Thresh _and_ Clove were transported. "Oh dear," she whispered, blood flowing freely from her neck, "he wasn't supposed to touch her... they aren't supposed to touch! _Oh dear god!_"

* * *

End of Chapter Two

-Pursuit


	3. Limbo

I had a horrible time writing for Thresh last chapter. Why? Maybe it's because I view Thresh like a semi blank canvas. It's something akin to bringing a canvas home from the store, only to find someone painted a line across it. Do you paint over the line and destroy it, or work around it? I feel with Thresh we've been given a minimal line, but to paint over it would be killing it.

...Dude, I need to stop studying this hard for the English exam.

Disclaimer: Oh, you amuse me so. I do not own _The Hunger Games_, nor the idea of Purgatory. That came before my time.

* * *

He opened his eyes and marvelled at how _foggy_ it was. As his eyes adjusted, he shuddered, wondering why it was so cold. Shakily, he rushed to take a breath and found his lungs filling up with water.

_He was surrounded by water._ He panicked, thrashing, slowly pulling himself up for air and gasping at how good it felt. He calmed, slowed his breath, and then jolted. "Clove," he whispered. "Clove!" He yelled, out at the great expanse. _"Clove!" _Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of auburn. Thresh dived, trying and failing to pull Clove up to safety, crying tears of frustration. He dived for the last time -his body couldn't take it anymore- and felt himself instinctively latch on to her arm. Thresh clumsily pulled her up, dragging her to land -_When did that get there?_- and collapsed.

She came to quickly, coughing up water and gasping for air. "This," she panted, "does _not_ make us even."

"Didn't think so," Thresh said, breathing laboured.

Clove blinked owlishly. "Since when can the dead almost drown to_ death_?"

"Since when did we think we'd be here?" Thresh pointed out, still doubled over. "_Where_ is here?"

Clove, deliberately not looking at Thresh, shrugged. "I don't know," she managed, "I don't think we _want_ to know."

"Do you think we moved on?" Thresh asked her, as he sprawled out in the sand.

She shook her head. "No," she said, "we, well _I_, haven't seen Cato yet. And you... well, you'll be here for a while."

"What if Cato wins?" Thresh whispered, voicing the thought Clove had dared not to wish for. "What if you're stuck here with me?"

"I'll figure it out," Clove said stubbornly.

Thresh shook his head, ignoring her. "I've never seen this much water before," he said.

"Neither have I," Clove remarked, "we had no expanses of water this vast in District 2."

Thresh paused. "We had some water in District 11," he recalled, and Clove grudgingly listened with wonder, "it always rained hard in Spring. We were always working in the orchards, though, we had no time to swim. The only time we ever weren't working in the fields was Winter, and the water froze by then."

"There was this stream," Clove began, sighing, "near Cato's house. When we were little we used to swim there, but eventually we got older and bigger... and well, we had to work in the factories."

Thresh gazed out at the ocean. "What kind?"

Clove ran her hands through the sand, scattering sand all over. "Weapons," she finally whispered.

"Of course," Thresh remarked dryly, rage slightly flashing over his face. "How else would you be so good with knives?"

Clove narrowed her eyes. "Where are you going with this, _Thresh?_"

"Well it's just a little unfair, isn't it?" Thresh said, jumping up, enraged. "That you and your people get special practice with weapons?"

Clove got up, eyes flashing. "_My people?_" She exclaimed. "What about you and your farmer folk? Don't you use hoes, or trakes or something?"

"Rakes," he said. "They're called rakes!"

"Does it really matter?" Clove asked, crossing her arms. "I'm sure a 'rake' could be used as a weapon."

Thresh threw up his hands. "Oh sure," he exclaimed, with mock enthusiasm, "like I could kill you with a rake when you can send a knife into my back from fifty feet away!"

"What's unfair," Clove shouted at him, "is that even though I have special weapons training, you manage to kill me with a fucking rock!"

Thresh groaned. "Oh sure, like you weren't dying to stab me! I'm sure you and Cato spent many a night fantasizing about it, you demon!"

"Is that any way to talk to the only person that can set you free?" Clove smirked maliciously.

"Lock me up then!" He exclaimed. "You're freaking impossible!"

Clove glared him down. "You do realize, that by killing me with a commoner's weapon, you shamed my family?"

"What about _my_ family?" Thresh wondered. "They were counting on me to survive. My brothers and sisters... they're too young to work and-"

"You had brothers and sisters?" Clove asked, softly. "A lot?"

Thresh shrugged. "We all did," he started, "in District Eleven... we needed people to work. What about you?"

"It was common to have only one child in District Two," Clove said. "It took a lot of work and dedication to groom your child for the Games."

Thresh stared at her coldly. "You volunteered, didn't you?"

"Yes," she murmured. "I wish I could take it all back."

Thresh paused. "I couldn't take it back if I wanted to," he said. "It's not commonplace to volunteer where I come from."

"It's practically my culture," Clove mused.

He looked at her funnily. "It's strange."

"What?" She asked, staring back at him.

He shrugged. "That we can be the same age and be so different at the same time. Look at us, we don't even look similar."

Clove's eyes dragged over Thresh, tall, muscular, and _dark_. Everything about his features were dark- eyes, hair, skin- and angular. She thought about what she knew about her reflection- auburn hair, dull brown eyes, _pale_ skin, and lean body- and sighed. "I suppose we don't."

"We're nothing alike," he stated, sitting down in the sand.

"Not quite," Clove said, sinking down beside him, "we share the same fate."

He looked at her and grinned. "Oh, and how so?"

"Well," she drew out, "we both died in those barbaric games, and I suppose I'm stuck with you forever."

Thresh raised an eyebrow. "How do you figure?"

"Cato is going to win," Clove said, evenly, "and I'm not sure I have it in my heart to forgive you."

Thresh sighed. "Hold on, Clove," he said, "what if Cato does lose? Besides, even if he wins, he has to die eventually."

"You heard what Messenger said," she replied. "Only the fallen pass through her office."

"She never once said that!"

Clove stared at him. "It was implied."

"What if Cato loses?" Thresh repeated.

She glared at him. "And what if Cato wins?"

He groaned. "You are _impossible!_"

"What is your problem?" She demanded. "Don't you think Cato could win?"

"Maybe!" Thresh exclaimed, throwing up his hands in the air, sand sifting through them. "I just don't want you be heartbroken when he _loses_, or worse yet- stuck with me!"

She shook her head slowly. "Don't," she whispered.

"Don't what, Clove?" He asked. "I'm sick of your games."

"Don't care about me," Clove whispered.

Thresh touched her shoulder. "Clove, I already- I made it clear I am sorry. I don't suppose you would get it- I sure don't- but by mistakenly killing you to avenge Rue's death... I bonded myself to you. I _owe_ you, I need to pay you back, I have to keep you safe."

She recoiled from his touch as if he had burned her. "Don't," she pleaded, blood trickling through her hair.

"I can't," he whispered, and it came as a revelation to himself. _He really couldn't_.

Something crackled through the air, and both Clove and Thresh jumped. "How to-" a voice wondered, "-bring them back?"

"Messenger," Clove whispered, and Thresh called out, "M.!"

"Where did they go?" M./Messenger pondered, and Clove and Thresh could hear pages turning.

Clove turned to Thresh, noticing he had jumped up. "She's getting us out!"

"I know," he smiled, and she smiled back.

They heard a sigh over the crackle, and then the murmured, "No regrets. Need no regrets."

They both froze as they realized what this meant, "I guess this means good-bye," Clove murmured.

"Come on, you were never really fond of me anyways," Thresh teased. "Besides, you haven't forgiven me yet."

Clove looked out at the ocean, and then up at Thresh. "I think, somewhere a long the way, I already have."

"So it _is_ good-bye," he said.

Clove nodded, squinting at the sun. "I guess it is."

Thresh squeezed Clove's hand and let go, and Clove watched as his outline started to blur before her. Thresh nodded in farewell, and Clove nodded back.

Recognizing her chance, she grabbed Thresh's hand, and widely smirked as she was transported along with Thresh for the second time. Only this time, she was one step closer to freedom.

* * *

End of Chapter Three

-Pursuit


	4. Azalea Faulks

Hey guys, Pursuit here!

Azalea Faulks was an interesting character to write, as well, she had such limited information that she required a made up name. Many of you requested Foxface, and here you go!

**As well,** thanks guys for the two nominations this story has gotten for the **Summer 2010 Hunger Games Fic Awards!** The two categories the stories are under are _Best Overall Multi-Chapter Fic_ and _Saddest Story/Best Tragedy_. Special Thanks to Tour de Force and Claratix LeChatham!

So, yeah... On with the story!

* * *

She smiled toothily, and M. instantly felt uncomfortable. "Azalea..."

"Yes?" She inquired, rapping her fingers against the desk.

"Please stop doing that," M. asked, gesturing towards her hand.

Azalea smiled. "Oh, alright," she conceded. "Now, where am I, who are you, and why do you seem so... _uncomfortable_?"

M. sighed, then answered, "Neither here nor there, I am M.; your messenger, and because of recent happenings."

"Being..?" Azalea openly inquired, smiling.

M. inwardly frowned as she felt blood rushing to her neck, and cringed when she saw Azalea staring. "I may... I may have caused two tributes to be trapped in Limbo."

"Limbo... what an interesting concept," Azalea said. "Now tell me, _M._, why am I here?"

M. sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "The concept of Judgement Day is to resolve the, err, _contestants_ of their regrets. Yet... you have none."

"Of course," Azalea replied, evenly. "What life- pardon the phrase- is worth living if it is clouded with regrets?"

M. remained silent, instead dabbing at her neck. "You look like a smart girl," Azalea continued. "Tell me, how old are you?"

"Sixteen," M. answered automatically, almost grudgingly.

"Ah," Azalea said, leaning back in her chair, "only a year younger than me."

M. sighed. "Not quite, I've been around longer than that."

Azalea opened her mouth to say something, but paused. "What is that sound? Sounds like someone is trying to _kill_ someone."

M. paused, straining to hear the noise. "I don't-"

"Ssh," Azalea said, miming a finger to the lips. "Now."

M. drowned out her surroundings, using the same concentration Azalea had, and heard the yells. "What is that- Oh! Pardon me!" She rushed to the door, sighing.

"Take your time," Azalea said. "I've got all the time in the world."

* * *

"Clove! Thresh!" M. yelled, both relieved and confused. "How did- you came back! Oh, thank god!"

Thresh rolled his eyes, glaring at Clove. "Yes, _she_ 'forgave' me, which turned out to be a ruse to get her back."

"Oh, tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing!" Clove shouted angrily, her voice echoing through the halls.

Thresh clenched his fists. "No, I wouldn't have. _I_ have integrity."

"Do you even hear yourself?" She asked. "I got us out of there!"

"Oh, sure. Not before toying with my emotions though!" He muttered.

She sighed, exasperatedly. "I forgave you, didn't I?"

"Did you really, Clove?" He asked, mocking. "Or was that just a matter of convenience?"

"I really did forgive you Thresh," she muttered.

He groaned. "There you go again!"

"What?"

He glanced at her, annoyed. "Toying with my emotions!"

"Oh, come off it!" She snapped, "Just admit it; I did the right thing."

"In what world-"

M. interrupted with a pointed cough. "Both of you, quiet! I have another tribute-"

"Who?" Clove asked, concerned, and Thresh sneered.

"Worried it's your precious little Cato, Clove? Worried he didn't send for you?" Thresh bit out, harshly.

M. frowned. "Enough!" She shouted, and then added more quietly, "I'll come back for you two later." She walked off with a pointed glance directed at the two, and slipped back into her office.

* * *

"So, Azalea," M. began, shutting the door behind her.

"Foxface," Azalea interrupted, "that's what _she_ called me."

M. paled. "You aren't supposed to be reading those."

"She's still alive isn't she?" Azalea said, eyes narrowed. "Her and her little boyfriend?"

M. shook her head. "I really can't say-"

"Answer me," Azalea demanded, not harshly, but the cold indifference made M. wince.

"Yes," M. whispered.

Azalea nodded curtly, snapping the folder shut. "Figures, I always thought she was smarter than she let on."

M. nodded, but said nothing. "Quite the amount of paperwork you did," Azalea noted, sweeping her hand over open folders. "The extensive detail is astounding."

"Yes, I-"

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?" Azalea asked, calculating.

M. shook her head. "No, I-"

"Then you dislike me."

"No, I don't dislike you," M. replied with finality. "I'm just a little taken aback by your indifference."

Azalea frowned, as if trying to find the right words. "You... are required... to answer all of my questions truthfully, right?"

"Yes," M. murmured, "same with the others. No one, quite knows that though."

"Of course," Azalea said, in a way that made it seem as if this made her immensely happy. "I have one final question," she announced, "before I'm ready to go."

M. nodded, watching as Azalea paced through her office. "And hopefully, I have an answer."

"Yes," Azalea smiled weakly. "Was this all for nothing?"

M. was unprepared for the question, but never the less, tried to find an answer. "I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "I think it was for _everything_."

Azalea pondered this, before smiling. "I think I'm ready to go now."

"I think so too," M. said, smiling softly. "The door on the left."

Azalea walked to the door, reached for the doorknob, and paused. "This isn't the end, is it?" She asked, turning to look at M.

"No," M. conceded, as Azalea turned the handle, "it is merely the beginning."

M. squinted as she was hit with the bright light, and watched as it engulfed Azalea. M., not for the first time, watched as the light forced the saline from her eyes. She no longer felt it.

She no longer felt anything.

* * *

**A/N:**I will be out of reach of the Internet the last two weeks of June. I sincerely hope to get another chapter up by then (because hello, Cato!) but I make no promises.

As well, I would like to note that M. is right; this _is_ just the beginning.

-Pursuit


	5. Cato

It's good to be back guys. As some of you might have guessed, I very obviously messed up with saying my vacation was in June, I meant I was away for the _end of July._

It took me awhile to write this, but I found it just flowed once I got started.

I'm just getting started.

* * *

"Cato," she said, smiling. "Welcome," she added, extending a hand.

He eyed it warily. "And you are?" He asked, bluntly.

"My name is M.," she answered, "and I am your messenger who will help guide you to the after-life."

Cato laughed. "No kidding," he said, finally shaking her hand. "So what's the plan of action, here?"

"Excuse me?" M. said, calmly. "I'm not sure I heard you right."

Cato looked confused, staring at her from across the desk. "Isn't there a challenge of some sort? To get into the after-life?"

M. smiled, clinically. Fake. "I'm afraid not," she said, and she reminds him of the people in the Capitol. "Just some self-reflecting."

"If it's _self_-reflecting, why do I need you?" Cato shoots back.

M. blinked. "I'm here to make sure you stay on task, to ensure you reach the ultimate goal- _the after-life_."

"What is this after-life?" Cato demanded, leaning forward in his chair, daring her to make eye contact. "Answer me!" He shouted, enraged, and M. watched his flesh rip its self apart. He was left, bloody and mangled, still staring her down. "_Answer me, damn it!_"

"I don't know, okay?" She countered, refusing to look at him. "They gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Cato seethed. "Who? Who did?"

"I'm not sure," she said, finally meeting his gaze. "The old messenger- my old messenger. He told me that instead of facing the after-life, I could become the new messenger, and I-"

"Took it," he spat. "Coward. Don't you want to see what's on the other side?" He said, mocking her, almost singing the words.

M. frowned down at her desk. "No."

"Why not?" Cato asked, mocking sympathy. "Don't you want to see your family? Don't you want glory and happiness? Don't you want to be _whole_ again?"

"Is that what you think the after-life is?" M. asked quietly, startling Cato.

He nodded. "Yes," he replied, "because that's what I grew up to believe I was promised. Because I refuse to have _nothing_ come of my death."

She paused and reflected before continuing. "I chose to become messenger," she began, staring at Cato with new-found confidence, "because I was waiting for someone, and I was promised I would move on if they came back for me."

"So they lived," he said, nodding, his flesh meshing together again.

"They lived," she echoed. "So I am stuck here, waiting behind this desk, until I meet them again."

Cato dropped the subject. "So what am I to... _reflect_ upon?" He drawled, leaning back in his chair.

"Well," M. began, again professional and collected, "we basically go over your major regrets... things that consume your mind to this day."

He cocked his head in her direction. "All Games related?"

"Are there any other kind?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked back at her, to her relief. "I suppose not."

She eyed him down. "I had been warned you'd be a bit... _abrasive_. I was not expecting this."

"Expecting what?" He asked, smirking.

"This facade," she answered. "This tough-guy act that let's you hide your emotions so well. Lets you pretend nothing at all is wrong." M. paused, taking in his glare. "Yes, I saw through you. I see through them every time."

He seethed in his chair, and she took this as a sign to continue. "See, I led you right in with my _'poor, lonely girl left behind' _act, and you fell for it. And you know why?" She asked, genuinely enjoying this. "No answer? Oh, Cato, really. You must try harder if you want to get that 'glory and happiness' you want so badly." M. smirked as his knuckles grew white from gripping his chair. "And _especially_ if you want to see Clove again. After all, we both know that's why you're here. Because you couldn't save her, because you were too _weak_ to save your own girlfriend. The person you loved most in this world-"

"_**Shut up!**_" Cato roared, leaping out of his chair and grabbing her by the collar. "Shut up, you stupid _bitch! _I did everything I could to get to her! I tried! I was trying so _fucking_ hard."

M. rolled her eyes, and stared up at him. "If you really did try so hard," she began, "why do you still regret it?"

Cato froze, releasing her from his grasp. "Time for self-reflection, Cato," she murmured, getting up and walking over to the door. "_Alone_."

* * *

"So you're honestly trying to tell me," Clove began, "that a trake is not some sort of weapon?"

"_Rakes_," Thresh corrected, "are not weapons. They are _tools_ we use to clear away dead plants and leaves."

Clove eyed him down. "Seriously, though. Couldn't you use one to kill someone?"

"Well," Thresh paused, "I guess so." Seeing the triumphant look on her face, he continued. "But that's different, Clove. No one _trains_ us to use them as weapons."

Clove rolled her eyes. "Well, no one trains us to use the weapons," she said, haughtily.

"I find it hard to believe-"

"At least," she continued, "not that you can prove legally."

Thresh threw up his hands. "Oh, yes. The esteemed District Two, model citizens of the law!"

"Oh yes," she began, mocking him. "The humble District Eleven, repressed farmers of the system!"

"_Clove_..."

"_Thresh_..."

M. clapped, startling them. "Bravo! I see you two are _still_ finding things to fight about."

"M.," Clove said, flustered. "What are you doing here?"

M. broke out into a wide smile. "It's time, Clove."

"Time for what?" Clove asked, as it slowly clicked with Thresh.

"It's time, Clove," he repeated. "Cato's here."

She slowly began to grin. "He asked for me?"

M. nodded, and Thresh nodded. "Always knew he would," Thresh added.

"Then what was with convincing me he would never come back?" Clove asked, glaring.

Thresh shrugged. "Preparing you for the odd 1% chance that he didn't... plus, it was fun."

M. rolled her eyes. "You two," she interrupted, "how do you feel about getting out of here?"

* * *

"Cato," M. greeted, coolly. "I hope you had enough time to reflect."

Cato nodded. "Yes, thank-you."

"And I'm trusting you came to the same conclusion as last time?"

Cato nodded. "Yes."

"You're pretty set in your ways, aren't you?"

Cato shrugged. "Only when I'm right."

"Let me guess," M. said, smiling wryly, "that's most of the time?"

"Not always," Cato disagreed, shaking his head, "I'm just opinionated."

M. settled herself back into her position behind the desk. "So, Cato... no regrets?"

Cato shook his head again, slowly. "None that I can think of."

"So you wouldn't mind some visitors?" M. asked, smiling wickedly.

"Visitors?" Cato echoed.

M. smiled, motioning towards the door. "Yes."

Cato turned around, and beamed. "_Clove..._"

"Cato," she responded, eyes teary.

Cato rushed out of his seat and enveloped her in a hug. "I've missed you so much."

"Me too," she whispered.

It was then that Cato noticed Clove's companion. "You," he snarled. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing; just-" Thresh began, interrupted by Cato decking him; knocking him to the floor.

"_What are you doing here?_" Cato roared, his face again twisting into a mangled mess. "_You fucking monster!_"

Clove began to tear up, startled by Cato's appearance. "What did they do to you?" She asked, sick to her stomach.

"What?" Cato snapped. "Am I too hideous for you now? Am I _that_ disgusting?" Cato screamed, his face and hands becoming even larger, more gaping wounds.

Thresh glared, as Clove helped him pick himself off the floor. "Leave her alone, Cato."

"No," Clove whispered, "you're not hideous. Who did this to you?"

"Mutts," Cato spat. "Katniss Everdeen's _Arrow of Pity _was just the icing on the cake."

Clove's eyes narrowed. "So she won," she said. "She actually won."

"Her and Lover Boy," Cato added, nonplussed.

Clove's face twitched mechanically. "So they both live," she said, gripping onto Thresh's shoulder, to his obvious discomfort. "_Little Miss Sunshine and Rainbows _gets to live on with her little Prince Charming." She laughed manically. "Oh, and surprise! She's actually not in love with him! It's just an act! Only, he actually likes her, and she doesn't care! He is going to be just _crushed._" She turned to Thresh, almost conversationally. "You can see it in his eyes, you know."

"See what?" Thresh gritted out, trying to untangle himself from her grasp.

"His love for her," she answered. "And I pity the poor boy... such an innocent person."

Cato shrugged. "I don't believe it, Clove," he said. "You saw that giggly girl at the interviews," he pointed out, "that's her version of _acting_. Part of her actually cares for him, she's just too self-involved in all the wrong areas to notice it."

"Then I pity those fools," Clove sneered, letting Thresh go. "What a mockery this has become."

"Cato, Clove, Thresh," M. interrupted. "I believe it's time."

They nodded tersely. "Any advice?" Thresh asked, raising an eyebrow.

M. smiled softly. "Death is relative. Death doesn't define you, it releases you."

"Oh, wonderful," Clove mocked, "cryptic advice."

M. winked. "It's the best kind. Now really, you have to get on your way." She motioned to the door on the left. "Oh, and Cato?"

"Yes?" He answered.

"May I speak to you, privately?" M. asked.

Cato shrugged, following her off to the side. "What?"

"I'm sorry if I was harsh on you earlier," she answered. "I have to target each tribute; it just requires different emotions and strategies for each."

Cato nodded. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

He leaned forward, motioning for her to do the same. "For seeing through _your act_," he whispered in her ear. "You're not as strong as you'd like to believe."

M. nodded, restrained, as Cato went to join the others. "Oh, and Cato?"

"Yes?"

"You're not as dead as you think," she replied. "Remember that."

He nodded. "Door on the left?"

"Door on the left."

Cato rejoined the others, and Thresh wrenched open the door. M. looked away as the former tributes were enveloped by the light, and cringed as the door slammed behind them.

She reached for the spot where her heart is; and found the same result as always.

_It was gone._

* * *

Clove opened her eyes to a brilliant light that gave her a head-ache. She relaxed. _This must be heaven, _she thought, almost dreamily, _I think I can almost touch the sun._

Her head-ache continued, and she clutched at her temple. Not only was the sun not helping, neither was that ticking noise. _What was that?_

She leaned backwards, and her head bumped almost automatically against some sort of wall. _Again, what was that? And why was the ticking noise getting worse?_

Groaning, she rubbed at her head again, glancing down as she did. _Gold, huh._ Heaven was kind of odd, she realized. What place has round stepping stones made of gold?

Frowning through her addled state, she noticed they had writing on them as well. "Tr.. tri.. Trib..." she sputtered, not quite registering it, until finally, she got it.

Clove screamed just as the ticking stopped.

_Tribute then, Tribute now, Tribute forever. Let the Games begin again, Clove._

* * *

And you thought this was the end.

Didn't I warn you it was just the beginning?

-Pursuit


	6. Let the Games Begin

Thank you for all of the nice reviews.

* * *

**Part II**

**The Games**

Clove immediately slumped to the ground after that infernal ticking stopped. _Of course, _she thought dryly, _wouldn't want me stepping off the plate too soon_, _would we?_

She was almost resigned to letting whatever the hell was out there kill her, until her brain nagged at her to move. _Cato. Thresh. Where are they?_

Slowly, she picked herself up, calling, "Cato? Thresh? Where are you guys?" She groaned. Her head-ache still remained, disorienting her. "Thresh? Cato?"

"Clove?" A voice responded, and without thinking about it, she ran to it. "_Clove?_"

"Cato?" She called, desperate for an answer. "Cato?" Finally, she found both Cato and Thresh near the Cornucopia. "Oh, thank god," she murmured, flying into Cato's arms.

Thresh rolled his eyes. "What, no hug for me?" He asked, sarcastically.

Cato smirked as he held out his arms. "Still want that hug, _Thresh?_" Thresh shook his head. "Didn't think so."

Clove eyed the two boys with something akin to disdain. "Yes, Cato, Thresh, we'll question your sexuality later. First, where _are_ we?"

"Well," Cato said, ignoring the jab, "it seems to be a duplicate of the arena the Games were in."

Thresh nodded, shaking his head. "It can't be the real one, though. First off, there's a significant loss of Katniss and Peeta, who should be being hover-crafted out right about now. Secondly, everything has been repaired remarkably fast, don't you think?"

"I suppose," Clove said, eyeing the familiar plains and forest. "Though, really. Isn't it possible that the arena might be the same, considering we are is some sort of pseudo-afterlife of all places?"

Thresh eyed her with slight annoyance. "Yes, Clove. Next off, where is _everyone else?_"

"Probably making their way through the arena," Cato reasoned. "Some, especially the ones who died at the Bloodbath, have been here awhile."

Thresh nodded, grimly. "Well, then stock up," he said, gesturing to the Cornucopia. "Who knows who or _what_ is out there."

They proceeded to grab what they could from the horn, Thresh grabbed packs of useful supplies, which triggered an eye roll from Cato. The latter reached for the sword, and both boys were somewhat sickened by the way Clove cheerfully played with her new knives. "Oh, these will work just fine," she murmured, running her fingers down the blade.

"Let's go," Cato said, as he grabbed one of the packs from Thresh, and began to walk. "The more distance we can put behind us-" Cato stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?" Clove asked, concerned and suspicious.

Cato mimed a quiet gesture, putting his finger to his lips. "Listen," he whispered.

"I don't hear anything," Thresh muttered after a considerable silence.

Cato eyes flashed. "Ssh," he whispered again, more urgent than before. He paused, narrowing his eyes in understanding. "Run," he urged, face flashing with fear. _"Run!"_

"Why?" Clove asked, only to get her answer a moment later.

The snarl ripped out of the plains behind them. "Run!" Cato urged again, pushing them forwards. "Just run!"

The three took off to the forest, not pausing to look behind them. "What is that?" Clove asked, slightly out of breath.

"Just don't look back," Cato urged, dodging rocks as he went.

Clove, never one for heeding warnings, quickly turned back. The Mutt glanced wickedly at her, seemingly smirking. It howled, causing the others to come to a stop. "They're stopping!" Clove yelled to the two boys in front of her.

"I told you not to look back!" Cato yelled, reprimanding her. He glanced back himself, noticing the Mutts retreating. _But why..?_

"Must have found some tastier prey," Thresh noted, grimly. "Now, come on. We'll need a place to set up camp."

Cato and Clove glanced at each other. "We have just the place," Cato said, grinning.

"By all means," Thresh said, rolling his eyes. "Let's go."

Cato and Clove led Thresh to the clearing at the lake where the Career's camp had been set up. "Strike Three," Cato noted. "Must be a different arena... our camp _isn't_ here, but there are no signs of it being blown up."

"Blown up?" Thresh questioned.

The other two nodded. "We had let the boy from 3 live; on the basis that he re-wire the landmines to protect our camp. Some innovative _bastard_," Cato spat, "found out how to set them all off."

"Really?" Thresh asked, trying to hide a smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, Thresh?" Clove asked, eyes narrowed and voice guarded.

A slight bubble of laughter poured forth from the trees. "I know _I_ am."

"Show yourself," Cato demanded, drawing his sword.

The tribute dropped from the trees in an graceful leap. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find your way back here," Azalea stated, smirking. "Not long, I see."

"Look, _5_," Cato spat, "we have no issue with you; don't give me a reason to stab you."

She laughed airily, "It's Azalea," she responded, "and I'd like to see you try."

Clove put her hand on Cato's chest, urging him to back off. "How long have you been here, Azalea?"

"Not long," she replied, "in fact, I believe two of you were supposed to be here before me."

Thresh grimaced. "Yes, there were some... issues with that."

"Have you run into anyone else?" Clove interjected, before Azalea could question Thresh's statement.

Azalea nodded, amused. "Both Marvel _and _Glimmer have tried to kill me on separate occasions, Raina- from 8- tried to stab me, and I was with Rue for a bit before we got separated," she listed. "Lovely girl."

"Separated?" Cato asked, his curiousity getting the better of him. "How?"

"Remember that forest fire?" She asked, to nods from her fellow tributes. "Well, it's back, and bigger than ever."

Clove shuddered, and subconsciously clutched at her throat. "And you haven't seen her since?"

"No," Azalea said, remorse flicking across her face. "I'd only been here a day; she'd been here for forever it seemed. I'm trusting she has enough knowledge to get herself out."

Cato glared at her, not sure where she stood yet. "And what have you been doing for food?"

Azalea chuckled. "How long have you been dead, exactly?"

"A day," Cato said, shrugging, "maybe less. Why?"

"Thresh, Clove," she said, turning to them, "haven't you found it odd, that you've been dead for days but have felt no hunger?"

Realization and horror flicked across Thresh's face. "We don't need to eat? Drink?" Azalea shook her head. "We're not even human?"

"Relax," she drawled. "You can still drink and eat if you choose, you just don't _have _to." She grinned. "And yes, we're less than human. What did you expect? A grandiose world where we feasted and celebrated? Keep dreaming."

Cato rolled his eyes, thrusting a pack in front of him. "So we don't even need these?"

"Well," Azalea started, "they are not vital, no. However, you'll find that your pack," she said, digging into one, and ripping out a device that resembled a pocket watch, "contains this. Peculiar device, isn't it?"

"What does it do?" Clove asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

The other girl smirked. "Figure it out for yourself."

Clove popped the lid open, somewhat saddened to find a timepiece after all. "That's it?"

Azalea grinned. "Try speaking to it."

"Hello?" Clove spoke into the watch, feeling quite foolish.

_"Hello?" _The watch asked back.

Clove nearly dropped it in surprise. "Who are you?"

_"Clove," _the watch chuckled dryly, _"it hasn't been that long. I am M."_

"M.!" Cato cried, surprised.

_"I trust you found Azalea? She's a smart girl, don't underestimate her."_

"Yes, we did," Thresh offered in reply.

_"Good,"_ M. enthused, _"I hope you have taken my advice to heart. You'll need it."_

M.'s voice cut out with audible static. "What happened?" Clove asked, afraid it was broken.

"You can only use it for so long," Azalea offered by means of explanation. "Don't worry, it will wind itself up with time."

"Oh," Clove replied, looking at their broken means of communication and feeling hopeless.

Azalea eyed them with slight hostility. "Just wondering... but what advice did M. give you?"

"_'Death is relative. Death doesn't define you, it releases you,'_" Thresh rehashed.

"And I the same," Azalea murmured. "Cryptic isn't it?" She asked, eyeing the sunset on the horizon. "I'd set up camp, if I were you."

Clove eyed her with curiosity. "Where are you set up?"

"The trees," she replied. "If it's good enough for _some_ tributes, it's good enough for me."

Thresh narrowed his eyes, snapping into motion. "What did she mean by _that?_"

"Katniss," Clove replied, "is quite possibly only alive because of her skills in tree climbing."

"Does everyone hate her?" Thresh asked, nodding in the direction of Azalea's retreating form.

Cato nodded. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she won."

Thresh frowned. "No one seems to feel anything toward Peeta, though."

"We feel sorry for him, that's why," Clove interrupted, shrugging.

Cato smirked. "And why would that be?"

"Because _he_ won... because _she_ won."

* * *

Thresh awoke to the feel of rain against his forehead. He frowned, groggily covering his forehead to _make it stop._

_However, _he was no longer sure it absolutely was rain, after the snarl that had him scrambling backwards towards the camp.

"Go to sleep," Clove groaned as he knocked into her.

Thresh patted behind him, knocking her in the shoulder. "Clove, in a second I'm going to ask you run, _okay?_"

"What is it?" Clove asked, wondering why everyone was so goddamn moody. Her eyes flickered open, just catching the pale beast in her peripheral vision. It howled; Clove was reminded of how much she hated wolves. "Cato!"

The figure beside her snapped up in a reflexive motion that Clove had never possessed. "What is it?"

"Well, it's not a fricking puppy, that's for sure," Thresh muttered, with habitual sarcasm.

Cato zeroed in on the mutts in mere seconds, wielding his ever-present sword. "Think we can take them?"

"Maybe," the voice from the trees called. "I'm guessing you have a slight chance." Azalea dropped down; none too gracefully this time.

Cato eyed her with annoyance. "You're fucking _crazy_, you know that?"

She ignored him. "I think I know how to stop them."

"By all means!" Thresh called out, still sprawled out under the Mutt.

"You're not going to like it though," she muttered, then whispered something to herself.

Cato eyed. "I'm sorry; I don't think they speak_ English_."

She turned to him, amused and oddly calm. "Do you remember M.'s advice?"

"Of course."

"You'll need it," she cautioned.

Cato frowned. "Why-"

Azalea set him in motion, launching herself against the Mutts. _"Die!"_

The palest Mutt snarled, disturbed by the tiny being flinging its self upon him repeatedly. "What are you doing?" Clove asked, disbelieving.

"Remember," Azalea repeated one last time, as the Mutt swiped its claw clean across her abdomen.

It was over in cannon fire and a blinding flash of light; Azalea's life.

* * *

Remember.

-Pursuit


	7. Redux

Long time, no see.

Read on:

* * *

Clove collapsed, shrunken, bitter, and blinded. She sobbed, uncharacteristically and _without a damn care in the world_, because of the absolute certainty she was next. _She would die._ She paused, shakily. _Well damned if she didn't go out fighting._

"What have you done to her?"_ S_he asked, stumbling about blindly. _"What have you done to her?"_

Her answer was simply a deep snarl, and huffing of breath from the other Mutts. Her vision came back to her in small pieces, and she glared the Mutts down with the remaining courage she had. The blond one, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, simply snarled again.

"Leave her _alone_," Cato snarled back, brandishing his sword, and jabbing as he spoke. "You got your kill," he said, glaring, "don't make me come after mine."

The Mutts seemed to accept this; hastily backing away and scurrying towards the plains. The blond one gave pause; _I don't want this any more than you do,_ it seemed to say. It quickly scurried off to the rest.

"Glimmer," Cato murmured.

"What?" Clove asked, jumping out of her thoughts.

Cato shrugged. "Those Mutts... they're the ones that got me, Clove. Ripped me to shreds... had a right fun time of it, too. It was Katniss who found out they were meant to symbolize the dead tributes."

"I'm sorry," Clove whispered, rubbing his back.

"The worst part was the eyes," Cato continued, lost in his mind. "The most terrifying thing was watching your eyes when you came after me; how haunted and wounded they looked. Clove," he said, turning to her shakily, "you know I never meant to hurt you, right? Not now, not ever."

She smiled sadly. "I know."

"Well," Thresh said, chuckling, "isn't this cute?"

Clove groaned. "We were having a _moment,_ Thresh. Do you what that is?"

"A moment," Thresh said, stroking his chin, pretending to be thoughtful. "Isn't that a small period of time, Professor Clove?"

Clove groaned and smacked Thresh in the shoulder. Cato looked on, amused, and wondered just how mental they were all turning. "Well," he said, "I think we should move on. Who knows if the Mutts will come back?"

"Agreed," Thresh said, shielding himself from Clove's blows. "Let's get out of here, and soon."

The rest of the morning was spent packing up their supplies, which had scattered in the confusion with the Mutts. Clove frowned, chewing at her lip until it bled. "What did you guys do with Azalea's body?"

"What?" Thresh asked, staring at her oddly. "Nothing. Why?"

Clove shrugged. "It's not here, so I figured..." she finished, trailing.

"No," he muttered. "I hate dead bodies, fucking nasty."

Clove gave him a quizzical look, and Cato stepped in. "Disappeared," he said. "Wasn't there when the light faded away."

"What do you think happened to it?" She asked, pausing in her packing.

"I think the light took it," Cato said simply. "Now come on, the sky's getting darker. Looks like rain."

They didn't bring it up again as they packed up those last few things and headed for the forest. "Where do we go from here?" Thresh asked, staring up into the trees.

Cato glanced at him. "Well, we always could-" He was cut off by a piercing scream.

"What was that?" Clove whispered, try not to alert whatever was causing that sound.

Thresh frowned, as if trying to place something. "Look, we have to go help them."

"No," Cato said, firmly. "Last thing we need is to get killed ourselves, and hey, less competition or whatever."

The scream reverberated off the trees. "Cato, we have to help them," Thresh said, agitated.

"What if it's a trap?" Clove asked, trying to calm him down by putting her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off. "It's not a trap," he seethed, a look of understanding etching his features, "it's Rue."

"Where are you going?" Clove asked as he spun away from them.

"To go find her," Thresh yelled back. "_Someone_ has to help her."

Cato grimaced at Clove. "I suppose you want us to follow him now, don't you?"

"Of course," she said, shooting him a look. "The only reason he's doing this is because he couldn't keep her from being killed in the Games! He has some twisted version of Survivor's Guilt."

They caught up to Thresh fairly easily. "Oh, so you're back?" He snapped, harshly.

"Yes," Clove said, shooting a look at Cato when he rolled his eyes, "because we're a team; because we're getting out of here _together_."

Thresh smiled, and Cato narrowed his eyes in something akin to jealousy. "Hey," he warned. "Don't be getting any ideas."

"Wouldn't think of it," Thresh said, smirking. "Now, where is Rue?"

Clove's smile faded. "We haven't heard anything in a while, Thresh. It's possible that she's-"

"She's not dead," Thresh said stubbornly. "She's not dead until I see it for myself."

The shriek pierced the air again, and this time it didn't sound so far away. "Rue?" Thresh called, blindly running through the trees, Clove and Cato stumbling after him. "Rue?"

"Thresh?" Rue called back. _"Help!"_

They found her backed up against a tree, Marvel standing over her. "Bringing your friend into this?" He asked her, dragging his knife over her face; teasing.

"Marvel?" Clove asked, confused. "Where's Glimmer?"

Marvel turned around, deflating before their eyes. "Went up in smoke," he grimaced. "I would've too, if she hadn't pushed me towards the stream."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Clove said, tentatively.

Marvel sighed, turning back to Rue. "And I'm about to be sorry for yours," he said, knife poised.

Rue closed her eyes, whimpering as the knife pressed into her cheek, hard. _"Please," _she whispered.

"Sorry," her would-be murderer responded. "But I've got to-"

Cato's sword came down hard, and the light seemed to expand out from its self, lighting the forest in a sickly glow. "Cato," Clove began. "Did you just-"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at his sword in disgust. "He deserved it."

"Thank-you," Rue said, clearly dazed. She must have looked into the light directly. "Thank-you for saving me."

Thresh smiled, slinging his arm around Cato's shoulder. "Yes, he's our hero," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," Cato said, waving it off. "Now get your arm off me, I don't like you _that_ much."

Clove ignored the two bickering behind her. "Did he hurt you... Rue?"

"Not really," the child said, looking away.

"Well," Clove continued, squeezing Rue's shoulder, "no one is going to hurt you now. You're safe with us."

Rue smiled shakily up at her. "Do you have any plasters?" She asked, hesitantly. "I think my cheek's bleeding."

"Just a second," Clove said, smiling warmly, "I'll check. Thresh," she yelled, "got any bandages?"

"I think so," Thresh hollered back, checking the packs. "Yeah, we have some here," he said, tossing them to Clove.

Clove stooped to apply the bandages to the shaking tribute. "This shouldn't hurt... much," Clove said, wincing. That must sound awful.

Rue grimaced as the less then sterile bandages were put on her wounds. "Thank-you," she said again, and Clove was suddenly worried Marvel had somehow scared her into repetition. "That's a pretty necklace," Rue continued.

"Oh," Clove said, surprised. "It's not really a necklace, it's a watch. It lets me talk to M."

"M.?" Rue asked, puzzled. "Who's that?"

Clove frowned. _Was it true that Rue had simply just appeared here?_ She thought. _After all, what regrets could she possibly have? _"She's the person in charge of getting us to the Afterlife," Clove said, standing up. "There, all finished."

"So she's the Queen?" Rue asked, confused.

Cato snorted from behind them. "Ha, she'd like to think so."

"Nah," Thresh said, disagreeing. "More like the Queen's joker if anything. She has a weak spot for the cryptic and riddling. Bit mental, if you ask me."

Clove threw him a glare. "Though you'd better be nice, _Thresh_, since she's the one getting us out of here."

_"Yes, Thresh." _The voice rang out dryly from the pocket watch. _"I'd be nice to her if I were you."_

Cato gestured towards Rue. "That's M.," he said. "You'll get used to her eventually," he stage-whispered.

_"Oh, Cato,"_ M. said, _"you wound me. Where's Azalea, Clove?"_

"She's gone," Clove said, awkwardly. "We met up with the Mutts."

_"Ah," _M. sighed. _"Have you figured out my advice yet?"_

Cato smirked. "Oh yes, in between the Mutts and saving Rue; we had loads of time for _that_."

_"Ignorance is bliss, Cato," _M. spat, harshly. _"But not when it means life or death. I must be going now." _The watch cut out.

"Good riddance," Cato spat, and Clove rolled her eyes. "Now, let's get moving shall we?"

Rue brightened. "I think I know a place we can stay!" She chirped, taking off into the forest, leading the others to follow her.

Only Clove heard the faint, _"Hang on to Rue for as long you can... she's a remarkable ally."_

* * *

And then there was Rue.

-Pursuit


	8. M

I don't know where to begin this note. I don't quite know how to end it, either. So I'll start somewhere in the middle.

I forgot. I simply, and utterly forgot how horrible that feeling is when you hold the _last book _in your hands, buzzing up to the desk at Chapters. I hadn't felt this since, well,Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows came out. That book was littered with sadness.

_Mockingjay_ is littered with sadness. This story embodies sadness. Every character laced into this plot is filled with it. Sadness.

My thoughts are madness. For some of you, _Mockingjay _won't get better. Some of you will find it the ending you hoped for.

I feel numb instead, and most uncomfortably so.

* * *

"It's almost sad, isn't it?"

M. shifts, guarded, even in her own office. "What?"

Titus smirks back at her in return. "This punishment."

"It's not a punishment," M. denies, stacking files angrily.

Titus's eyes narrow, smirking nontheless. "Would you prefer I call it a sentence? After all, the Judge _does_ revel in propriety."

"The Judge knows nothing," M. spits, glaring at the monstrous boy perched on the edge of her desk. "He's never had to spend one day in those damned Games."

"And that's what makes it all the sweeter," Titus murmurs, "the fact that we can never escape these Games."

M. eyes him suspiciously. "Oh, and what do _you_ know? You were oh-so-generously offered a job in file when your day came around," she spat. "Face it, neither of us can judge the tributes that pass through our doors."

"Oh," Titus began, wistfully, "how I would _kill _to be back in those Games." Sending her a wink he added, "Pardon the pun."

The blond eyed him with disgust. "You're despicable."

"Hey," he defended, "killing is second nature, darling. It's in our blood; inescapable, urging."

M. shivered. "Yes, but most of us have the strength to suppress these urges," she pointed out, locking away those last few files in her cabinet."

Titus chuckled, his teeth gleaming. "I suppose I'm just weak," he said.

"Very," M. nodded.

Titus flashed her a brief grin. "And how many do you have left?"

"Too many," the girl noted, sighing.

"So they haven't been _following your advice, following your advice, following your advice?_"

M. cringed. "No, and wipe that smirk off your face."

"Please," he grinned, "I can smirk all I want. _Mine_ took my advice."

"Yes, lucky you," M. intoned. "Now why are you here, again?"

Titus grinned. "Oh no, dear, we're still talking about this. I hear Mercutio still has three tributes left. Poor things, completely off their rockers."

"Poor _Mercutio_," M. corrected, "how many Games ago was that? Fifteen, sixteen?"

The boy grinned wickedly. "Try _seventeen_. Poor guy, he keeps sending things at them to put them out of their misery, but those nutters are crafty little things."

"Azalea was my craftiest," M. reflected. "She was the only one as of yet to decipher my advice."

"Speaking of deciphering," Titus began, "the Judge sent me to give you this note. I'm not sure what it says though, the bastard wrote it in some sort of code."

M. grinned. "Upset you weren't able to read everyone's dirty little business for once?"

"Just decode the blasted thing already, okay?" Titus groaned, rolling his eyes as he passed her the note.

_M.,_

_Persuadez-les de mourir._

_C'est que le Juge voulu dire. _

M. laughed. "Oh, dear, it's not in code- it's in _French_. One of the ancient languages that died out during World's End."

"Well," Titus grumbled, "what does the blasted thing say?"

The blond stared at the note for sometime, before scribbling over the notes. "This is what it says," she said, passing the note back at the former tribute.

_M.,_

_Persuade them to die._

_That is what the Judge meant._

Titus nodded, flinging the note in the waste basket. "So?"

"It's a warning, I suppose," M. muttered. "I don't understand though..."

"What's not to understand?" Titus asked. "The old man wants them dead."

She frowned. "Yes, but," she began, muttering, "oh, never mind."

"Clearly he's not satisfied with the way you're handling things," he smirked.

M. rolled her eyes. "_Clearly_."

"Don't worry darling," Titus intoned, "I'm sure this will blow over before the Judge can ask for your head on a pretty silver platter."

The blond smiled briefly. "You know, I've never been partial to silver."

"Yes, always favouring gold, that's right," Titus said, chuckling. "Always a weakness for the bright, you poor thing."

"I suppose," M. whispered.

Titus fixed her a pointed glare. "Sometimes, I think that's why you're so afraid of them dying, your tributes."

"Maybe," she said, but weakly. "What do you think happens to them, when they die?"

Titus shrugged. "Sometimes you just have to believe they'll be alright. That they're... better off."

M. dabbed at her perpetually dry eyes. "I wish I could. So hard that- I miss having emotions. Living. Breathing. They don't- they- don't understand that-"

"I know," Titus muttered. "Trust me, I know. But they'll get it one day, I promise."

She sighed, shakily. "Thanks. I just hope... that I get to see them one day, my family."

"We all hope," Titus replied, shrugging. "And the harder we believe; blessed is thy reward."

The girl stared at him with confusion. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know what to believe any more," the boy admitted, turning his head.

"Then what is the point?"

He glared at her. "The point, _dear_, is that no matter what, we're never going to be safe. That's why I loved the Games, because we were never tricked into believing we were."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the two. "Don't you have things be doing?" M. asked, shakily.

"No," the brute admitted. "My Tributes have since left me." He frowned, and then, "They called me Title."

"Mine call me Messenger," the other admitted, "or they call me M."

Titus frowned, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Maybe death isn't so bad after all," he murmured. "It has to be better than being useless shells stripped of our names."

M. flashed him a smile. "We can only hope."

Titus nodded, gruffly. "I'll tell the Judge you received and comprehended the message," he said, and frowned. "And you might want to check your feed... it seems your Tributes require your services."

She watched him walk out the door before pressing the cables together. "Speak."

* * *

_They called me Title._

-Pursuit


	9. Fruit of Thine

It's been awhile.

Like, a four-month long while.

I apologize.

* * *

Thresh looked warily at the large white cloud that drifted lazily across their expanse of sky. Briefly, he wondered what The Others were up to. Marvel... what had happened to him? Where did the light take him? And Glimmer, had she not died as well? And The Others... why couldn't he remember their names? Perhaps he had never learned them. It had been ages since then, right? Katniss and Peeta... he wondered what they were up to, now that the worst was behind them. What were they doing with their precious allowance of life; did they deserve it?

"Hey," a voice greeted, along with a hand on Thresh's shoulder. "You okay?" Cato asked, gruffly, as he sat down beside Thresh in the sun-scorched grass.

"Yeah," Thresh replied, shaking any loose thoughts from his head. "Just thinking, is all."

Cato smiled weakly, gazing off into the distance. "I try to avoid to avoid it, if I can."

Thresh threw Cato a wary look. "You mean that massive head of yours can actually hold thought? Boy, I read _you_ wrong."

"Oh come off it," the blond boy muttered, but it lacked his usual bite. "I try to be nice to you, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Yes," Thresh replied, staring somewhere past Cato's nose. "Because you're only being nice to me out of necessity, and because Clove threatened to braid your hair if you got within a five yard radius."

Cato smirked. "I'm not that callous, you know. I could have possibly quite liked you if the circumstances had been different."

"Oh, well then," Thresh said, rolling his eyes. "Cato, you big softy." He followed Cato's glance to Clove, who was sitting under the plain's lone oak, clumsily trying to braid Rue's hair. "Cato, you big softy," he said again, chuckling.

The blonde stared at the brunette with disdain. "Please," he said, "I think not."

"I think so," the taller boy responded, a glimmer of deviousness in his eyes. Allowing his gaze to wander back to the two girls sitting across the plain, he remarked, "She would have been a great mother, you know."

Cato's expression soured instantaneously. "Yes, she would have," he bit out.

"I'm sorry," Thresh said, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't mean to offend you."

The stockier boy shook his head, and leaned back until he was lying in the grass. "I know you didn't," he replied. "Or, at least, I think you didn't. I don't think I can know anything for sure, anymore." He glanced over at Thresh, then quickly back at the sky. "She would have been a great mother, I know that. She wanted kids, they were always on her mind," Cato continued.

Thresh leaned back so he was resting on his elbows, so that he could hear more clearly what the other was saying. "You wouldn't have been half-bad as a dad, either," Thresh remarked. "Probably. Once you stopped intimidating the living shit out of them."

Cato quirked a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can't have kids," he said, plainly.

"Well, neither of us can," Thresh pointed out. "I mean, it's not like anyone has tried or anything, we've been kind of busy lately-"

"God, you're an idiot," Cato spat. "You don't get it. _I can't have kids. _I couldn't have them before the Games, I couldn't have them now. It's out of the question, hell, it was never part of the equation."

Thresh nodded, struck by this new information. "How do you know?"

"As a citizen of District 2, you are subjected to mandatory tests once you hit puberty. I assumed every district had a test, but I guess it might just have been our district," the shorter said, matter of fact. "I found out when I was twelve- they said I was impotent or some shit like that. Faulty genes."

Thresh slumped back onto the ground. "Oh." He looked away, because this was far more personal than Thresh was used to getting, and it scared him. Yes, he understood that Cato was a... an ally, of sorts, but what if this really was just the Games over again? _What if there could only be the one victor?_

"Yeah," Cato replied. Thresh startled, but he doubted the other boy noticed. "That was all she ever wanted," he said, with a head nod towards Clove, "and I couldn't give it to her. What about you?"

"What about me?" Thresh murmured. When Cato sent a glare his way, he sighed. "Yes. I could. If I wanted."

The boy beside him sent him a curious look. "How do you-?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Thresh muttered, turning away from Cato's discerning look. Sighing, he started to say, "Look, I'm sorry-"

Cato shrugged, looking over at Thresh. "No, I'm sorry. And wipe that stupid grin off your face, I'm perfectly capable."

"I know," Thresh said, laughing. "Or at least, I think I know."

Cato nodded as a round of laughter erupted from the girls across the way. "I don't trust this sky," he said, softly, and Thresh turned to look at him, "it's entirely too blue."

"Is that a bad thing?" Thresh asked, hesitantly.

"Yes," Cato replied. "Nothing perfect lasts."

* * *

"And who decided that an orange would be called an orange?"Rue asked, indignantly. "And what came first: the colour, or the fruit? Is an unripe orange called a 'green'?"

Thresh smiled at Rue's garbled jabber, laughing as the child switched so easily from one thought to the next. Sometimes, he believed, she might be the most sane of them all. At least, she wasn't trying to pretend she was. Because, let's face it, they were all perhaps a little mad. "I don't know," he murmured, half-listening, staring resolutely at the path ahead. He wasn't quite sure how long they'd been walking, but he could have sworn they'd walked this path for hours.

"Of course not," Cato snapped, sending Thresh a look that clearly was meant to try Thresh's patience. "An orange is always an orange; a pear is always a pear."

"But," Rue said, smiling, "isn't there a pear tree, or a pair of socks? Can't you pare an apple?"

Clove interrupted, and Thresh silently thanked her. "What's all this talk about food?"

"I don't know," Rue answered. "I think I might be hungry, but I'm not really sure what that feels like anymore."

"Is there an emptiness in your stomach?" Clove recalled, with great satisfaction, and Thresh smirked at the silly grin on her face.

Rue shook her head. "No, but there's this weird ache in my jaws... almost like they're getting stiff from misuse."

"I doubt it," Cato snorted. "Not with the way you've been talking."

The little girl either didn't hear the insult or had a strength Thresh didn't have. "Well, maybe the pain is in my teeth then. It's not pain, really... I just can't really explain it."

"I think I know what you mean," Thresh said, slowly. "Like in the off-season," he said to her, "or any season, really, when you never have enough and you start to forget what food is."

She nodded, and Clove gaped in horror. He almost laughed; poor little rich girl who had never felt hunger. Almost. Instead he scuffed at the undergrowth. "Exactly," Rue nodded. "Are any of you hungry?"

Her answer was three shakes of the head. "No, thank you," Thresh said, more out of habit than anything.

"I think I saw a fruit tree a while back," Clove responded, turning around to face the other side of the forest.

"Did it have little colourful things hanging off it?" Thresh deadpanned, probably deserving the punch Cato threw to his shoulder.

Rue smiled. "Do you guys mind if I-?"

"Go ahead," Clove said, smiling warmly. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine," Rue said, smiling shyly, and then turned off towards the mess of trees behind her.

Thresh smiled softly. "She idolizes you, you know."

"Me?" Clove asked, her smile growing wider.

"No, Cato," Thresh said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, you."

The auburn haired girl laughed. "I don't know why. I mean, I'm not much of a role model."

"I think it's because you remind her of Katniss, in a way," Thresh stated, shrugging.

Cato shook his head manically, catching Thresh's eye. "Bad move," he mouthed, and Thresh cringed.

"I am _nothing _like that stupid tree-hopping bimbo," Clove practically growed. "And I don't appreciate the comparison, _especially_ from a friend."

Thresh sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't see what's so bad about her. Obviously, she had her faults, but-"

"Please," Clove spat. "You already saved her once, no need to do it again."

Cato frowned, looking between the two. "I wonder what's taking Rue so long," he said clearly, in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Yes," Clove said, pausing. "Where is Rue?"

Cato shrugged, and then mouthed "Mission accomplished," when Clove had her back turned. Thresh's mouth twitched, but didn't quite reach a smile. _Why now?_ He wondered. _Why the sudden change in Cato's behaviour? Cato hated him- or, at least, he had until a few hours ago. What was he planning? Was Clove in on it?_ Then Thresh got that reflexive twitch at the back of his head that warned him he was over thinking things. Again. Suddenly he felt uncomfortable in his own mind, and hostile in his own skin. _He never over thought things. Why now?_ He thought again, which brought him back to the subject of Cato. _Why the sudden change in Cato's behaviour? Cato hated him-_

Only the piercing scream broke his thoughts. "What was that?" Cato cringed.

Thresh and Clove already knew. "Rue," Clove whispered, and then was off like a shot, leaving the boys clumsily running after her. "Rue?" She screamed as she ran. "Rue!"

"I'm here," Rue called out, her voice coming from the right. They followed her voice, coming to a large apple tree, and a small Rue hunched on its ground.

Clove crouched down in front of the girl. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Rue said, dragging herself up. "I just figured I'd eat up in the tree, and I accidentally nodded off."

"You didn't hit your head, did you?" The older girl asked.

Rue shook her head. "No, just my elbow," she said, sighing. "You wouldn't happen to have any bandages, would you?"

"You mean plasters?" Clove asked, tilting her head, searching through their bag of supplies.

"Plasters?" Rue asked. "What do you mean?"

Clove frowned. "Are you _sure_ you didn't hit your head?" Rue nodded. "Sorry," Clove said, "it's stupid, but last time you asked me for a bandage you called it a plaster. I thought- well, I don't know what I thought."

Rue blushed. "Sorry, you called them bandages last time, so I guess I picked it up."

Clove smiled. "Oh, okay," she said, fishing out a bandage from the burlap sack. "You just can't be too careful with injuries, especially when they're from a fall like yours."

"Are we all ready to head out?" Thresh asked, moments later.

"Yes, we should get going," Cato agreed, staring up at the colour-streaked sky. "It won't be long before the sun sets, and we need a place to spend the night."

_Nothing perfect lasts._ The thought struck Thresh suddenly, throwing him off guard. _Why now?_

* * *

Thresh awoke to a rustling by his ear. "Are you up?" He heard Rue ask, and he squinted in the darkness to find out who she was directing the question to.

"I am now," Clove responded, sleepily. "What's up?"

"I found us some friends," Rue giggled, and Thresh caught the outline of her crouched body next to Clove's.

Clove rubbed at her eyes. "Us?" She asked, and then, "Friends?"

"Yes, me and you, silly," Rue giggled. "I found some friends."

"What kind of friends?" Clove asked, warily.

Rue smiled, her teeth unnaturally white in the night sky. "These kind," she said, and then whistled.

He heard the snarls before he could make out the shape. Mutts. He made his body as still as possible, not even daring to breathe. "Rue, what did you do?" Clove asked, using her hands to move herself backwards towards the bushes.

"That rhymes," Rue laughed, melodically. "I didn't do anything," she said, at Clove's stern look. "They found me."

"Why?" Clove asked, her voice shaky as the mutts drew nearer.

Rue smiled. "Because they sensed I needed them."

"For what?" The other girl asked, finding herself backed up against a rocky ledge with nowhere to go. Thresh's eye drifted to Cato's form, and found the boy's blue eyes staring back. Cato shook his head slightly. _'Don't say a thing.'_

"Well," Rue said, flopping down beside Clove, and sitting cross-legged, "we do need a way to get rid of Thresh and Cato."

"We do?" Clove repeated, and the boys exchanged a worried glance.

Rue nodded, the moonlight highlighting her dark hair. "Of course. How can we win if they're still here?"

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" Clove tried, and Thresh almost cried out at her stupidity.

"No, I didn't," Rue said, as if she were singing a song. "Silly Clove. Oh, look! They're here!" A mutt's foot came dangerously close to Thresh's knee, and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from saying anything. "So, to get rid of the boys..."

"But they're my friends," Clove said, slowly standing.

Rue giggled, standing as well. "They're not your friends. _I'm_ your friend."

"Yes, you are," Clove agreed, holding out her hands. "But so are they. They're your friends too, love."

"No, they aren't," Rue spoke, her voice growing testy. "I heard them! When you were braiding my hair they were talking about how to get rid of us!"

A flicker of hesitation showed on Clove's face. "I'm sure you heard wrong, Rue. They don't want to hurt us, just like we don't want to hurt them."

"But I do!" Rue snapped. "I want to them to hurt, to bleed! I want them to scream in pain and beg for mercy. I want them bled white and carted away. I want them _gone_."

"You don't mean that," Clove protested, abnormally pale. "You don't- oh, Rue, you're bleeding."

Rue paused. "Am I?" She frowned, and looked at the large gash on her forearm. "Thank you for telling me, Clove."

"Do you need a plaster?" Clove asked, fingers shaking. "I'm sure I can-"

"No!" Rue screamed, her face twisting nastily. "Because," she said, digging her fingernails into the gash, "it's how I do this." What happened next is not something Thresh felt he could accurately describe, but it make his stomach churn. The three watched on, in grim fascination, as Rue sunk her fingers into her gash and started to pull the skin off her arm.

Clove shrieked, shrilly. "Stop!" She commanded. "You're hurting yourself!"

Rue's grin widened as the ripped a particularly large chunk of muscle clean off her bones. "It's doesn't hurt," she said, innocently. "It actually feels quite nice." Clove gagged as Rue moved to the next arm, and then to her legs, and as the mutts grabbed and fought over the flesh at Rue's feet.

"Are you crazy?" Clove screamed, fingers fisting through her hair. "You're killing yourself!"

A laugh cut through the night, but it wasn't Rue's. "Am I, Clove?"

"Yes!" Clove screamed, her eyes shut, and her ears covered by her hands.

"I never thought I'd see the day," came a voice entirely too low to be Rue's. Clove hesitantly opened her eyes, and Thresh followed her gaze.

There, standing among Rue's shredded skin, with Rue's manic smirk still imprinted on the flesh, was Katniss Everdeen. "Hello, Clove," she said. "Bet you thought you'd never see me again."

"What are you doing here?" Clove asked, testily. She clutched at her neck, and Thresh briefly wondered why. Something else, however, caught his attention moments later. Clove had tossed him the communicator watch. He reached for it slowly, trying to cause as less noise and visible movement as possible. I didn't matter though; both Katniss and the mutts were intently focused on Clove. He flicked the watch open, cringing at the click it made. "M.?" He asked. "M.?"

"I have some... unfinished business to attend to," Katniss smirked. "You tried to kill me, Clove, and I fully intend to try to do the same."

Thresh almost missed the crackle of the communicator. _"Speak," _M. demanded.

"Can you please tell me," Thresh started, "why the hell is frigging _Katniss Everdeen_ back in the arena?"

There was clear hesitation on the other end. _"It's not Katniss Everdeen," _M. relented, sighing. _"It's a mutt, albeit an intelligent one. We call them ReMinders, because they mimic and manipulate others' memories."_

"You people are fucking screwed up," Thresh hissed back.

_"Don't remind me."_

It hit Thresh suddenly. "So what happened to Rue?"

_"I don't know for sure," _M. admitted,_ "but that mutt is most definitely not her. I lost her presence awhile ago, Thresh. I'm not quite sure what that means at the moment, but I'll let you know when I do."_

Katniss moved towards Clove, the pack of mutts following in her wake. "So what is it this time, Clove? Are you afraid to die?"

Clove pressed herself against the rocks as Katniss' hand ghosted across her face. "No," she whispered.

"You're about to be." Katniss grinned. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Clove?"

"How do we get rid of her?" Thresh asked M.

The communicator crackled. _"The same way you kill any other mutt."_

"And how's that?"

_"With great luck and good aim," _M. replied.

"Helpful," Thresh remarked, dryly.

_"Aim for the head," _M. clarified. _"It's where they are the most vulnerable. I am no longer of any assistance to you. Good-bye."_

The reception broke up, making Thresh groan inwardly. _Always at the worst possible time._

"So," Katniss asked, "are you?" She asked, absentmindedly patting the fur of the large blond mutt.

Thresh caught the glint by chance. "Are _you_ afraid to die?" Clove asked, turning the conversation back on her attacker, as she deftly pulled the small knife from inside her jacket.

"What?" Katniss asked, taken aback.

Clove grinned. "You're about to be," she said, thrusting the knife deep in Katniss' shoulder blade.

Katniss screamed in agony, but called the mutts off when they moved in to attack. "She's mine," she hissed, jerking the knife out from her body and discarding it on the forest floor.

Thresh motioned to his head, and Cato nodded. "The head, Clove!" Cato called out, causing Katniss to turn on him with eyes filled with rage. Clove, seeing her chance, grabbed the small knife from where it lay and plunged.

Thresh swore he could have seen the ghost of a smile form on Katniss' face before she fell. "The mutts!" He yelled, with a hoarse voice, and scrambled to his feet just as the mutts surged. Clove tossed him one of her precious knives, and he caught it clumsily, cutting open the palm of his hand. He slit the throat of one just as it reached for Thresh's neck, and turned on the next. It snarled, then reached across and batted him on the shoulder, causing Thresh to drop his knife.

_So this was it, then. _It struck him as odd that he didn't feel anything other than acceptance. He wasn't ready to die. Then he remembered. He already was. _So that's why, _he thought with a smirk. _In that case, bring it on. _

Blood spattered his face, warm and sticky, and he wondered why he didn't feel any pain. Slowly, the massive creature in front of him slid to its knees, and Thresh then noticed the sword protruding from its abdomen. He looked up and met Cato's eyes, and nodded once. "My hero," he remarked, dryly. "What do you call it? Knight in shining armour?"

"Shut up," Cato said, gruffly; helping Thresh to his feet. Thresh felt his mouth open to thank him, but instead nodded. They had bigger issues to worry about at the moment.

* * *

I had writer's block for the longest time, but then this idea struck me and begged to be written.

Once again, I'm sorry. I have no idea where this wonderfully gory piece of hell came from, but in a weird way, I'm kind of glad.

If you're reading this, Karamel, which I doubt you are, I'm sorry. For being a shitty friend, for not talking to you on Christmas, for not bothering to ask how your exams went, for everything, and _especially_ for not watching Doctor Who.

An awfully apologetic,

-Pursuit


	10. We Grew Up

It's been a long two years.

How have you been?

* * *

Clove spun to her right, and sliced her dagger into a mutt's abdomen. The tough flesh pulled at her knife, resisting the wound, and the wound was jagged when her knife exited its body. The creature slumped to the ground.

It had Raina's eyes. Raina, from 8. Clove hadn't even bothered to learn her name, in the beginning, as District 8 rarely ever produced anyone with favourable odds. She hadn't even known her name when she had been there, _watching_ her, as Cato killed her. Azalea had mentioned it off-hand when they'd met up-_ Raina from 8 tried to stab me_- and that was the first she'd heard it. But now that she knew (Raina, clothing and textiles Raina, never really had a chance Raina) she felt responsible for her. Responsible for what had happened to her. Never a victor but always a victim, Raina.

For the first time in her life, Clove felt true anger. She was always angry, of course. But that was manageable anger, one that she could control and sculpt into skill.

Suddenly the pull and tug of mutant flesh, flexing and writhing and pressing against her blade, seemed easier to rip apart. She attacked viciously, lashing out at everything in front of her. She also attacked _dangerously_, and she knew because Cato backed away from her. Cato was afraid of her.

Good. She wanted him to be afraid.

The mutts started to retreat, backing away from the crazy girl with the six-inch long dagger, from the girl they were programmed to kill. So, they fled across the field and up on the hill, where they squatted down on their haunches and watched.

Good. She wanted them to watch.

When they left, tails between their legs and glossy fur shining in the mid-day sun, she stood still for a very long time. She did not know what to do with herself.

It was only when a strong pair of arms wrapped around her, and another, that she finally moved. Slow, easy movements, and she became Clove again.

"What do we do about the bodies?" Thresh wondered, and Clove peeked out from under his arms to survey the damage.

"Leave them to rot," Cato said, wearily. "What else can we do?"

Thresh tensed, Clove felt his arms tighten around her. "But what do we do about_ hers_?"

Katniss' body lay twisted in the middle of the field, neck wrenched in a way that Clove could see Katniss' face, could see her last smile. Her eyes were open and searching. All around her were pieces of Rue, fake Rue, please don't let it be real Rue, at least the pieces that had not been scooped up and eaten by the mutts. Clove stared into the blank grey eyes, and felt _tired_. She shook the boys off of her, and walked over to Katniss' body, and when her boys went to follow after her she would not let them. She reached the body, and knelt down, so she could see the body better. And she said, in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

Katniss didn't say anything back. Clove didn't really expect an answer. (Clove kind of expected an answer.)

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you," Clove continued, and borrowed her words from the doctors and trainers who told her peers they weren't selected as the 'volunteers' for the Hunger Games. _I'm sorry this had to happen to you, but you didn't make the cut. This is not your fault, you're just not special enough. You are not strong, not great, not likeable. You are not good enough, and we have failed you. _"And I am very sorry this had to happen to me. Because, Katniss Everdeen, I do not think you are special, or strong, or charismatic. I think you are lucky. You are extremely lucky to have that boy in your life. You are lucky enough that you will never have to go without him, and he is lucky enough that he will never have to watch you die. And when I see you in hell- because I know enough about the world now to know there is no heaven- you had better not have screwed it up. If I find out that you hurt him, I will torture you to the fullest extent, and I might let Cato have a go after I'm done. Because, District 12, I am strong. I am great. I am special. I am not lucky, but that did not matter because I had a boy who loved me. Who stills loves me, if this is real. I have a friend now, which is a luxury I had never been allowed to have. I'm sorry Katniss Everdeen," Clove repeated, "for being glad it was you. This is not a war I would want to win. You can have your hollow victory. Thank you."

She hovered her hands over Katniss' face for a long moment before she pushed down Katniss' eyelids, closing her eyes. Finally, she felt Katniss' presence fade away. _Closure,_ she told herself. _This is what closure feels like._

She walked back to her boys. Cato, the only person she had really loved. Thresh, the only one she really trusted.

"We need a place to camp for the night," she said. "I don't want to stay here longer."

"I'll get our gear," Cato offered, and left Thresh and Clove alone.

Thresh hesitated before asking, "Are you okay?"

Clove only answered because she couldn't hear any pity in his voice. "No," she answered, truthfully. "I'm losing my mind. I am scared, and I am so very _tired_."

"We all are," Thresh offered. "I think we all want nothing more than to put these games behind us."

"I think," Clove said, and then paused for a very long time as she watched Cato pick up the last of their scattered supplies, "I am ready for the end now."

Thresh hummed, and nodded. She laced her fingers through Thresh's, and felt the callouses from years of hard labour, and the scars from lashings. "But," she continued, "I don't know if Cato's ready."

"I am," Thresh said, certain. "There is so much waiting for me."

"What happened to us?" Clove whispered, as Cato started to head back. "We used to be fighters."

Thresh smiled sadly. "We changed. We had to."

"We grew up," Clove agreed.

"Are you ready to move on?" Cato asked, when he reached them.

Clove smiled brightly. "Of course," she said, easily. "What else can we do?"

* * *

Dedicated to GunRecon 11 for giving me a much-needed pep talk (literally) and kicking my ass into gear (figuratively).

And, as always, dedicated to Karamel, who is doing God knows what two years later. Hopefully still watching Doctor Who, because now we finally have something to discuss.

Love and Happy Thanksgiving,

-Pursuit


End file.
